


Neither Beginning Nor End

by VerdiWithin



Series: Talisman [56]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdiWithin/pseuds/VerdiWithin
Summary: Persephone and Hades enjoy some private time before she must leave.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Series: Talisman [56]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497371
Comments: 29
Kudos: 205





	Neither Beginning Nor End

**Author's Note:**

> Previously in this series:
> 
> Demeter has brought Winter to the Mortal Realm in an attempt to wrest Persephone away from the Underworld. Despite their efforts to help the mortals, Persephone eventually capitulated to her mother’s demand that she return. Spring is coming soon.
> 
> This story incorporates “A Name for Blue,” a stand-alone story I wrote last December. A few details have been changed to make it fit here.

I’ve been searching the house for fifteen minutes for my favorite fountain pen. I’ve looked in the bedroom, all through my study, in the living room, and in the kitchen. Persephone has been waiting patiently for me all this time--she must be getting annoyed by now. I give up and go look for her. 

I last saw her in the kitchen, drinking her tea, getting ready for the day, but she’s not there now. She’s not in the living room either. Great. Now I’ve lost something much more important than my pen. 

“Kore?” I call. There’s no answer.

I walk out to the atrium, her favorite spot. “Kore?” Still nothing. I’m getting concerned. We’re late for work, and that’s totally my fault, but it’s not like her to wander off. Maybe--maybe she finally decided to agree with me about taking some time off? Well, that’s an intriguing possibility.

I drift down the hall, looking into rooms, wondering if I’m going to find her somewhere, waiting for me, posed in some deliciously filmy scrap of provocative nothing. I’m about to call again when I hear her voice. She’s talking to someone in low tones. 

I approach the next room, which is my study, and peek around the doorframe. All of the dogs are sitting in the middle of the room, listening to Persephone, who is kneeling on the rug with them.

“Now listen, all of you. You’re going to have to be on your best behavior, yes you are! All of you have to be super good and keep Hades happy, okay?” Her voice cracks and I hear her sniffle. I retreat into the hall. I can’t watch this. I shouldn’t be listening, either, but I do. I lean against the wall and Persephone’s voice floats out of the door.

“I’m relying on you,” she goes on, with a warble in her voice. “C’mere Fudge! That’s a good boy! Will you give Hades plenty of snuggles while I’m gone?” I shake my head. How can she imagine the dogs will be any replacement for her? I miss her already.

“Russell, sweet boy! You’re in charge of playtime. You know where to find your ball? Yes you do! Good boy.”

“JP, show me your trick. C’mon, roll over! Good boy!”

She goes on in a softer tone for a couple of minutes, and I can’t make out her words. I should stop this. I’m eavesdropping, and it’s rude, and more than that, it’s tearing my heart out.

“CB, come here, little guy. I know we’re not best friends. But you love Hades, and I do too, so you’re going to help take care of him for me, right? Right? That’s a good boy. Your job is to act up when Hades gets sad. Can you do that for me? Of course you can!” She’s all choked up now. My throat thickens in response to hearing her like that.

“Cerberus. Oh, Cerberus, come here.” I hear a few thumps and I know she’s petting him in that enthusiastic pummeling way he likes. “My best boy,” Persephone murmurs. “You have to protect him, okay? I know you know how--”

I have to get out of here. My eyes are hot and watery and I can’t take this any more. I run for it, and shortly find myself in the laundry room. I pick up a clean, folded towel, and hold it to my face, tears leaking out. It takes me a few minutes to get control of myself. Dammit. I was trying to be strong.  _ Persephone _ is being strong, it’s the least I can do to not get hysterical on her. 

I wipe my face and drop the towel into the dirty basket. I straighten my tie and smooth my hair, and then I notice my fountain pen on top of the dryer. I must have set it down while doing laundry last night. Idiot.

We’re now significantly late for work but I really can’t bring myself to care. I go back out to the front hall, trying to keep control of my emotions. I find Persephone there, using the sticky roller brush to remove fur from her dress. She glances up.

“You find it, Smush?”

I smile a little. I love her name for me, though I would never admit it. “Yeah. It was in the laundry room. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay. I don’t have anything urgent today.” She sets down the brush and picks up her coat and purse.

“You want to drive?” I ask.

“Sure.” She holds out her hand and takes the keys from me.

All the way into the office Persephone keeps up a bright chatter, just as she has for most of the time in the week since we signed the Agreement. She’s maintained such a convincing facade that I’ve sometimes wondered. Maybe she doesn’t really mind the idea of separating from me for six months. Maybe she’s looking forward to a break from me and all my nonsense.

Now I’ve finally realized it isn’t so. This is just my inferiority crap, coming back to bite me again. I thought I was past this, but I guess not. Understanding that my wife is in pain, just as much as I am, is a terrible thing. But knowing that she’s going to miss me as much as I’ll miss her is--well--how can I be happy about that? But I am. A little.

Persephone has been brilliant at keeping up a pretense of being strong and even philosophical about being away for so long, but she’s devastated too. She’s just as miserable contemplating her departure in a few weeks as I am. Her insistence on going to work, living our lives as usual--this is how she’s keeping the despair at bay.

I’m disgusted with myself that it’s taken me so long to understand this. How could I imagine that she was taking this in her stride? I know very well how much she loves me, how hard she’s fought to stay with me.

We arrive at the office and enter Tower One. Persephone is still producing a smooth flow of words, telling me about work things and news about our friends. Now that other people are around, she speaks to them as well, calling out greetings and questions to people she knows. She seems to know everyone. How is it that after only a few months as Queen she knows the people around here better than I do?

She amazes me. We ride the elevator together, and I try to think of something to contribute to her one-sided conversation, but I can’t. I just watch her, and listen to her lovely, low, husky voice.

When we arrive in our outer office, she’s  _ still _ going on, but I know my cue, and I know what I want. I pause beside the water feature to slip an arm around her waist and pull her to me. “ _ Hush _ , little goddess,” I murmur, too soft for our PAs to hear. I lift her off her feet and kiss her soundly. 

When I set her back down again, she’s smiling at me in a particular way she has. Knowing. Completely seeing through me. “See you at lunch?” she says.

I nod, and turn away to go to my office, but then I jump in surprise. I look back at Persephone, who grins and waggles her eyebrows. She removes her hand from my ass and waves at me with it, then walks into her office. I watch her the whole way and just before she closes the door, she meets my eyes again for a scorching moment.

What a goddess! I shake my head in amazement. She continually surprises me. I head into my office, determined to make the best of this day, despite the rocky start. Maybe I can finally make headway in figuring out the supply chain problem.

I’m distracted on the way to my desk. It’s starting to snow outside. I remember the first time Persephone was in my office, nearly a year ago, looking out and seeing her first snowflakes. I stand at the window, lean on the cool glass, and allow myself to feel the misery I’ve been trying to stave off.

I was happy, for months on end. I finally have what I need to make my life complete. Persephone is kind, and gentle, and incredibly smart and beautiful, and she  _ adores  _ me. I should have expected that there would be a stumbling block. A thorn in the rose. 

It’s only six months, I try to tell myself. It’ll be gone just like that, and then she’ll be home and we’ll be happy again. What’s six months, when you’re as old as I am? Only half my life, from now on. _ Dammit. _

I sigh and shake my head, turning away from the window. It’s time to get something done. I sit down at my desk, but my eye is caught by something new. Over in front of the big photo of Persephone, there’s a little glass vase full of-- 

Forget-me-nots. She sent me forget-me-nots. Her special flower, the one she sprouts in her hair when she’s thinking of me. All the emotions I’ve been trying to suppress all morning come rushing to the surface in a flood. I put my face in my hands, my head on my desk, and let it all out. 

It’s some time before I feel balanced again. I go and wash my face, and blow my nose several times. I can’t believe I just lost it like that.

I return to my desk, and delicately touch the little blue flowers. I wonder how Persephone managed this. I suppose she could have asked someone to deliver them for her, but that’s not like her. Usually, she likes the personal touch--showing her love by giving her time and effort.

Did she sneak out during the night to do this? Or this morning, while I was obsessed with finding my pen? I suppose she could have. I certainly wasted enough time on it, and she  _ is _ a goddess. She has her ways, and she can be sneaky when she wants to.

I find my determination growing. I can’t go on like this, pretending nothing is wrong. Pretending that things are normal, that every day right now isn’t a countdown to the inevitable agony of separation. Who cares about supply chains? Who cares about profit margins, and advertising campaigns? I care about my wife. I want to be with her, and her alone.

I make a few phone calls, then I exit my office. Epimelis and Kynora are chatting across the outer office as they work at their desks in opposite corners. 

“I need you to cancel all my appointments for the rest of the week,” I announce to them. “Her Majesty’s, too.”

I open the door to Persephone’s office. She’s talking to Hecate and they both look up in surprise.

“Is something wrong?” Persephone asks. She looks concerned. 

“Yes.” I’m floundering for something to say. “Poseidon called. It turns out his beach house is free for the next week and he desperately needs someone to stay there, for, uh, security reasons.”  _ Weak _ . My nine-year-old niece comes up with better lies than that.

Persephone blinks at me a few times, and exchanges a look with Hecate. “So… he needs a caretaker?” she asks.

“Exactly. But he needs the right kind. Someone he can depend on. Ideally with a lot of dogs, to keep away burglars.”

“Oh, I see,” Persephone says slowly. Hecate is developing one of her trademark smirks, but she says nothing. “Maybe someone who can also take care of Amphitrite’s plants?”

“Yes!” I’m relieved that she gets it. She’s not going to shoot me down.

“Well, we’d better get going, then.” Persephone rises, collects her purse and coat, and crosses the room to take my arm.

***

After the flurry of packing, organizing, ordering provisions, and transferring to Poseidon’s island retreat, all the decisiveness seems to melt right out of Persephone. By evening, she’s flopped on a sofa, drinking wine, gazing out at the choppy waves lashed by rain. Despite the stipulation in the Agreement that Demeter would moderate her hold on the bad weather, it’s still quite cold here.

I struggle for a long time with the flue in the living room fireplace. When it finally creaks open, a shower of rusty bits falls onto the hearth. It seems it hasn’t been used for a long time. Why start a fire indoors when the weather is always perfect? Last time we were here we had a fire on the beach, but tonight it’s too cold and wet to be outside.

I stack logs and kindling, then light them. There’s little that Persephone likes better than cuddling up in front of a big fire. Once this one is well-established, I get my own glass of wine and sit down with my wife, taking her feet in my lap to rub them. She smiles vaguely at me.

“Are you warm enough, Sweetness?” She’s all bundled up in one of my sweaters, wallowing in its depths.

“I’m good. I have you.”

I smile, but I also feel a twinge of pain. In a few weeks, she won’t have me. Not for months and months. What will she do for warmth and comfort then? What will I do? I massage her feet, rubbing firmly, trying to keep my distress to myself. I don’t need to add to her burdens.

***

Over the next few days, Persephone sleeps, quite a lot. In a lounge chair on the beach, in the hammock, in bed. Always in my arms. When we’re not sleeping, we’re snuggling and talking, or making love, or just touching. Idly stroking, drinking one another in. Neither of us has the energy or the drive to do much else beyond eating. From time to time I propose a walk or something, but Persephone just shakes her head sadly, and curls up under my arm. 

All the emotion she’s been carefully hiding from me leaks out now. One night I wake to find her crying, her small body tormented with silent sobs. I curl myself around her and hold her tight. We don’t say a word. There’s nothing to say.

Most mornings we sleep in, and then eventually I go out to the beach patio to find that someone has been here, leaving behind a bag of food or some flowers, usually with a note. Triton and Rhode seem to be the main instigators, but one morning there’s a pair of bottles with a note from Hephaestus. I shouldn’t be surprised. My whole family knows where we are, and knows all about the sacrifice Persephone is making. That we’re both making.

I take the bottles inside and prepare to make a good breakfast for Persephone. The least I can do for her is make sure she eats well. As I start cooking the vegetables for an omelet, there’s a dramatic  _ whoosh _ outside, and in the space of a few heartbeats a driving storm rushes right off the ocean to buffet the windows with rain. I watch for a moment as the trees outside are lashed by the high winds. It’s loud and the light is dim.

Just as the vegetables are ready, Persephone comes in from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes.

“Good morning, Kore. You’re just in time for breakfast.” I add the eggs and cheese.

She smiles vaguely and starts making herself some tea. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you could predict the future. How did you get your timing so perfect?”

“Luck, I guess.” 

That, and she was talking in her sleep a little while ago. I’ve noticed that often means she’s going to wake soon.

She leans against me, sipping her tea, and I bend down to kiss the top of her head. “What do you want to do today?”

“Eat that lovely omelet. And then… well, let’s just go back to bed, okay?”

“It’s a good day for it.” It's gotten darker while we've been talking. This storm is settling in for a long stay.

The omelet is done, so I cut it in half and slide it onto our waiting plates. We eat at the small table by the window, our attention arrested by the weather. It isn’t at all like the last time we were here, when every day was sunny and hot and we kept the windows open constantly.

Instead of bed, we bring a pile of blankets and pillows to the couch and set up a nest. We snuggle in warmth and watch the storm. Persephone absently strokes my arms and chest, but her attention is absorbed by the drama outside. I’m content to wait for a definite cue from her. We’ve been having a lot of sex, but I don’t think she’s in the mood just now.

As long as we’ve been intimate, Persephone has had an impressively high sex drive, but now it’s beyond all precedent. I would be worried if I didn’t understand it, and match it besides. Knowing that soon we won’t be able to see one another, or touch, removes all barriers. Neither of us wants to delay any opportunity for indulging ourselves, and each other.

“I had a really happy childhood," Persephone says, out of the blue. She's still watching the storm.

I follow her lead. “Did you?”

“Yes. Sorry, I'm not saying that to hurt you.”

“I know. Tell me about it?” I nuzzle her temple and kiss her cheek, just because I want to.

“It was… idyllic, I suppose. You know what Sicily is like.”

“Yes.” It was a paradise. I think my memories are merging now with the current reality of Elysium.

She turns to look at me now. “My mother was wonderful. She read to me, and taught me, and played games with me. I was happy.”

I don’t really doubt that Demeter was a good mother when Persephone was a young child. “Did you have other children to play with?”

“Sometimes. Young nymphs. But never for very long. Did you have friends when you were small?”

I drop my head to her shoulder and let her cradle me. “No. I don't think there were any other children at the time.”

“Oh.” She pauses for a while, toying with my hair, lightly stroking behind my ears. “I think being happy for so long when I was young, I got the idea that it was normal. That it was… my right.”

I don't know what to say. Persephone is implying that at this moment, she no longer feels entitled to happiness. This breaks my heart, even though I spent most of my life cynically equating joy with delusion.

“Maybe happiness is only moments,” I whisper.

She nods. “Just fleeting, gossamer bursts. Here, and then gone.”

“So--we should savor them. While they're here.”

“Yes. We should.” I raise my head and she smiles at me, then her lips are on mine. "How about a bath?" she asks.

"Okay. A bath for getting clean, or a sexy bath?" Just so I know what to expect.

"Why not both?"

Why not indeed.

***

A couple days later, Persephone seems to be getting restless. She can't settle down to reading or snuggling, and claims not to be hungry. I wonder if she's had enough of this vacation. We left our return date open-ended. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a goddess as hard-working as she is would have a tough time unwinding.

I watch her prowling by the windows and leave her be. I try to read, but I can't focus. Something about her today draws my attention--she smells wonderful, and the way she moves is entrancing. She's wearing one of my shirts, whose tails come down nearly to her knees. I watch her roll up the sleeves, and then toy with the mostly-undone buttons as she gazes outside.

I can't look away. I shouldn't be like this. We've had a ludicrous amount of sex while we’ve been here and I wouldn't blame Persephone if she were sore and sick of me. I'm a little bit sore myself. It's knowing how much I'm going to miss her that's making my libido go haywire, I'm sure.

I love the way she's friendly, warm, and generous with everyone, but she still has a particular smile that's only for me. I love the way she can be cool and correct in public, and quite shockingly randy in private. I love the way her plump lips part, and her thick eyelashes lie on her cheeks, and her delicate hands. I love the dimples adorning her perfect ass. I love her voice most of all, and the words she says to me. The words she whispers, the words she laughs, the words that are torn from her throat between moans of pleasure.

Persephone folds her arms, and I notice her shoulders seem tense. She sighs deeply, then crosses to the doors, flinging them wide. It's overcast today, but not actually raining. A fresh, salt-scented breeze swirls through the room.

"That's so much better!" she says. "It's so stuffy in here." She steps out on the patio in her bare feet and I follow. The constant sound of the ever-flowing ocean is soothing to my ears.

"It's less cold than when we arrived," I comment.

“I feel like getting drunk. Do you want to get drunk with me?” Persephone asks, looking pensive. 

“I want to do anything you want to do. What shall we drink?”

“Mmm. Red wine.”

“Okay. We brought plenty of that.” I choose a bottle from our stash, and find some glasses and an opener. 

Persephone drags the big faded chair and its matching ottoman over to the open doors. It’s plenty big enough for the two of us, so when she climbs in and pats the seat next to her, I slide in as well. She holds the glasses while I pour.

“What are we drinking to?”

“To oblivion,” she says, and taps her glass to mine.

I’ll drink to anything she wants, but her answer surprises me. “Well, you did say you wanted to get drunk.” 

I watch while she downs her entire glass. She really meant it. I start on mine, just so I can keep up.

Persephone refills her glass and then mine. She snuggles into my side and lifts one leg over mine, tickling my shin with her toes. She traces the scars on my chest with one finger, then wrinkles her nose at me and smiles. I smile back, delighted at the faint dust of freckles over her cheeks. I take a long drink and then lean in to nuzzle her jaw and neck. I watch her throat at close range while she gulps down more wine. I kiss her neck and sniff her skin.

I always love how she smells like honey, but today it's something more complex. Her scent now is laced with mine, and with the musk of sex and semen. Beyond that, I can detect notes of grain ripening in the sun, flowers wet with dew, and freshly-turned soil. Inhaling again, I smell the fruity aroma of the wine we're drinking. My senses are stunned and I feel an overwhelming surge of arousal.

“You smell so  _ damn _ good, Kore. I want to--”

“What?”

I swallow hard, my throat gripped with terror. “I was going to say I want to eat you up,” I whisper. I’m poised for any reaction. She has every right to be furious with me.

Persephone smiles, her eyes warm and heavy-lidded. “Well, why don’t you, then?”

“I don’t--I mean, um, I--”

“Hades! Do you literally mean you want to consume me?” She pokes me hard in the belly and giggles.

“No! Of course not. I just mean…” I shake my head, tongue-tied.

“I know what you mean. You want to merge with me, and become one being.”

I think it over, then nod. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”

“But we can’t, not really. Or only for a short time.” Her hand moves and cups my balls through my loose lounge pants. She hefts them as if weighing or testing them, looking down, and then back to my eyes. “Of course, we could always just… do it again.”

I feel my lips curving. “I do like the way you think.”

Her fingers dance upwards, delicately sliding over my erection. “You say that a lot.”

I kiss her lips, catching her smiling, and her tongue darts to stroke mine. “It's true, though. You're brilliant and you have the most creative ideas.” 

“Flatterer!” She tugs open the drawstring of my pants, then slips her fingers under the waistband. “Enough compliments, and you think you can have your way with me?”

I watch while she ducks her head, her eyes never leaving mine, and takes the head of my eager cock in her mouth. Very, very gently. Her tongue flicks on the underside, her breath fans my belly. 

“Oh, no, ma'am,” I murmur. “I'm well aware that you're in charge, my beautiful Queen. As ever I am your willing--” I gasp when she exerts a slight suction. _ “Unh!” _

My mouth drops open and a long rasping groan issues from my throat. I can feel my pulse thumping and somehow Persephone is managing to time her tender suckling perfectly with the pounding of my blood. She barely needs to do anything--the lightest touch is making me wild. After a minute she smiles around me and sucks a little harder, flicking her tongue at the same time.

_ “Fuuuck,”  _ I groan. 

My hands flail wildly. I knock over my wine glass, but I don’t even care. What she's doing is  _ incredible _ . I'm so oversensitized, her delicate touch is nearly painful, and at the same time nearly enough to set me right off. I want to beg her. I don't know whether to beg her to stop or to redouble her efforts.

She relents, gentling her touch so that I can breathe again. I pant, watching her. Fascinated to know what she'll do next. She swirls me carefully, the merest brush of her tongue and lips, and then draws me in as far as she can, slowly, completely, until I'm right in her throat.

I whimper helplessly. “Persephone, please!” I don't even know what I'm asking for.

She releases me and leans back, grinning wickedly. “You like my ideas, and  _ I _ like your desperation.”

I wheeze a laugh. “I have an idea myself. Reciprocity.”

She giggles, and begins unbuttoning the shirt she's barely wearing. My shirt. She makes it look incredibly sexy. “Oh, so you want to make  _ me _ desperate.” She opens it, baring her breasts. She's flushed and glowing, and her scent is stronger than ever.

“You know I like you desperate.”

Persephone sits down on the ottoman and I push it away, just far enough that I have room to kneel on the floor. She squeaks and grabs my shoulders for balance. I take advantage of this and nudge her onto her back. She plays at being surprised, gasping protests, but at the same time she opens her thighs and places her hand on my head, directing me where she wants me to go. 

“Just a little,” she whispers. “A tiny taste.”

“I don't know if a little taste is enough for me.” I'm lying, and she knows it, even as I flick my tongue over the swollen, glistening nub of her clit. 

She’s just as hypersensitive as I am. The merest touch makes her shudder, and I don’t even try to finger her. I’ve been inside her so much this week, I don’t want to overdo it. I lave my tongue up and down, sucking very gently here and there, wetting her and encouraging the flow of her arousal fluids. This is partially out of self-interest--I’m frantic to be inside her again, but I need her to be extremely wet or it’ll hurt both of us.

I’m being short-sighted, I realize. “Sweetness, I think we could use a little help here.” 

I hop up and run into the bedroom, find the bottle of lubricant in my suitcase, and run back to Persephone. She lifts herself up on her elbows and watches while I apply some cool lube to my fingers, then begin spreading it where it’ll do the most good.

“Oh, that feels nice,” she murmurs.

“Nothing wrong with needing a little extra help.” I lube up my thumb and use it to circle her clit.

She sighs happily. “I want you. You’re not too sore?”

“I’m game if you are.”

Persephone sits up and encourages me to lie back in the chair with my hips on the ottoman and my feet on the floor. She sits straddling my thighs and picks up the lube bottle. She squirts some in her hand and then cups my cock, gently smoothing the slippery fluid all over me. At the same time, she rocks against my leg, her hot core smearing me. Her eyes are half-closed and she’s smiling.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yes, please!”

She puts her feet on the floor and crouches over my hips. I get my cock lined up and sigh as she slides onto me.

“Oh, the lube was a really good idea.” She arches her back and l reach up to cup her breasts. “Mmm… yeah. I’m not sore there.”

I chuckle, and take the hint. I cup and fondle her breasts, pinch the nipples and tug them. I watch her face, and her movement, luxuriously slow. She leans back until she reaches behind her back and cups my balls. I hiss in response. “I’m not sore there, either,” I tell her.

Persephone laughs. “We could have planned this better. Would you like me to heal you?”

“No. You can’t heal yourself. It’s better we’re in the same boat.”

“Nice and slow.”

“Yeah.” I don’t really care about getting off. I just want to be close to her, the focus of her attention. One being, for a short time. I move one hand down to her thigh, and delicately tease the thin, sensitive skin there. “How about here?” 

“That’s lovely.”

We stay like that for some time, barely moving, breathing in time, touching one another. The light is slanting down towards sunset, glowing with warm colors behind Persephone, outlining her in gold. The breeze off the ocean plays over us, cooling my skin, making her hair float around and occasionally get in her face.

“You are so beautiful,” I whisper.

“So are you,” she replies. “The sunlight is making your scars glow. And your face--I wish I could draw, to show you how beautiful you are.”

I reach up to cup her cheek and she smiles and kisses my palm. “You only had, what, two glasses? You can’t be that drunk.”

“Hush, you! I think you’re beautiful and you won’t convince me otherwise. Do you think it’s smart to disagree with the woman you’re currently inside?”

“No.” I could say something about not being all that smart, either, but I don’t.

She leans down and presses her lips to mine. I fold her in my arms and stroke her back, kiss her with every measure of tender passion I can command. I feel a familiar tingle that means Persephone is accessing her powers. I don’t open my eyes, not yet. Her scent surrounds me, her skin and hair tease me, her warm slippery sheath torments me. My senses are bathed in her: my beautiful wife, my brilliant queen.

“Look at you, my gorgeous king,” she whispers. 

I open my eyes. Persephone is glowing softly, as if lit from within. Surrounding her is a glorious riot of color, flowers and plants of all shapes and sizes. We appear to be lying in the soft grass in the middle of a bower, surrounded by vegetation. Warm golden light filters in from above, and butterflies flit about, perching on my knees, Persephone’s shoulders. 

I know it for illusion, but it’s very well done. I could see through it if I focus my own power, but I don’t want to. It’s the first time I’ve seen her do something like this.

I arch my back, pushing deep into my wife, and she gasps in response. “You are astonishing,” I tell her. I grasp her hips and hold her still while I rock beneath her, trying to find the right angle to delight her. I’m dizzy and my senses are overstretched, but I’m giddy and ecstatic at the same time. 

The wind is rising, stirring the leaves and flowers around us, making the butterflies dance. I don’t even know if it’s real or illusion or some combination of both. Persephone’s power still flows and I’m drunk with her scent and her touch and the wine and the beauty around me. I feel poised on the edge of orgasm, my heightened sensitivity tormenting me, keeping me balanced between sweet torture and agonizing pleasure. 

I reach down and touch her, the weeping flower between her thighs pulsing with heat and rich scent. She wails and arches her back. I can see the flush spreading down her neck, enveloping her breasts, and know how close she is to fulfillment. Her sex spasms around me, tighter than I can bear, but I suppress my reaction. 

I have to hold still and empty my mind, watching Persephone come. Her muscles contract implacably around me: pulling, demanding response. Her voice buffets my ears and her nails dig into my shoulders. Power flows out of her in waves that blur my mind, making me forget the borders between us, the edges that define me. Finally she relaxes, panting; her slippery, swollen channel comfortable once again. I dare to move a little.

“Oh…” she moans. “You’re not done? I don’t know if I can take any more!”

“I can stop, if you want.” I’m so turned on it hurts, but honestly I’m not sure what will happen if I do come. It might be worse than the arousal.

Persephone swallows, controlling her breathing, watching me. “No. Just go slow.”

“Okay.” I don’t want it fast, anyway. Gentle stroking feeds my aching need without pushing me into painful overload.

“Can I do anything to help?” she asks. She raises her arms over her head, stretching languidly. The movement is slight but makes me gasp anyway.

“Just being you is enough. I can’t take much right now, either.”

“Overuse, huh? I get that.” She watches me for a minute. “What if I just talk?”

“I like what you’re doing with your power,” I tell her. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

I can still feel her flux as she maintains the illusion around us, sharpening the details. She smiles and reaches out to a hanging vine above me, pulling it down and trailing the bright flower over my chest. Its petals are soft as velvet and leave my skin damp. “I don’t even know how I’m doing this. You’re an inspiration.”

“I like to inspire you, little goddess.” She moves her hips in a tight circle and I gasp with pleasure and pain both. “Oh, you are incredible!”

“Do you know what  _ inspire _ means, really?” she asks. I do, but ironically, I don’t have breath to answer. She’s clutching me hard with her inner muscles and I can’t focus. “It means  _ breathe in. _ Can you do that for me, Hades? Breathe with me!”

She grabs my hand and places it between her breasts, inhaling deeply at the same time. I copy her, willing myself to be as much a part of her experience as I possibly can. 

“I love your cock inside me.” Her other hand is down between her thighs, stroking around my base, even as she rides me with small bouncing movements. I don’t know where she’s getting the strength to do this. Is she less raw than I am?

“Damn,” I whisper. “You are  _ so _ hot inside!”

“That’s what you do to me!” she says. “I get you inside and I have no control, no boundaries. All I want is you! Breathe now!”

I need the reminder. I gasp a breath, draw her scent deep into my lungs. I am fully immersed in Persephone. I have nothing but her.

“Come inside me, come inside me, yes!” she chants. As if I'm capable of disobeying her.

“Kore! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!”

“You are  _ mine. _ Don’t you forget it!” Her eyes bore into me, not letting me look away as I lose my damn mind. The first contraction of my climax sends a spike of pain through my groin, but then I feel the soothing balm of Persephone’s power, and know she’s healing me. Relieving the sting of abrasions, loosening the knots of overused muscles. The release from pain adds new levels to my pleasure and I wail and gasp with it. My vision is darkened by overload shutting down my senses, even as hot tingling waves crash through my body.

When I’m aware of my surroundings again, I find I’m already crying. I’m sobbing into Persephone’s long hair, fear and misery pouring out of me. The dam has burst and there’s no containing my emotions any longer. She holds me tight, her whole body wrapped around me. She’s the only anchor I have. I cling to her, and let the sadness run rampant.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all right. This needs to happen. Let it all out, beloved.” I can feel her tears, dripping on my neck. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

We stay like that a long time, curled together, sniffling through our misery. I’m starting to get cold--Persephone must be freezing, but she doesn’t mention it. She’s just clinging to me, stroking my hair. The illusion has faded away and we’re once again lounging in my brother’s shabby armchair, the doors wide open to the weather outside. 

“I don’t want you to feel guilty about anything,” she whispers. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Haven’t I? I took you away from your proper place.”

“No, you didn’t. You  _ gave _ me my proper place. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me. I knew very well that my mother isn’t rational when it comes to me. I knew she would never give up.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re right that guilt has no place here, not between us. I’ll try to put it aside, if you will.”

“That’s fair. Would you like to hear the first guilt I’m putting aside?”

“Yes.”

She moves so she can meet my eyes. Her expression is serious. “I’m not sorry for what I just did to you. I know it hurt, and I don’t feel guilty about it. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No. It was the most amazing pain.”

“Good. All of this hurts. Giving you up, having to be away from you, it hurts so much, I’d rather lose an arm than you. I’m glad the pain could give something back.”

I laugh. Her words don’t really make sense, but I understand her. 

“Losing you--it's the worst pain I ever imagined,” I tell her. “Worse than being chewed up and spit out. But we can endure this.”

I spent thirteen years alone. Six months without Persephone, knowing she's missing me, knowing she'll be back--it's endurable. Horrible, but I know I can survive it.

She nods and cups my cheek. “Getting to be with you, it's worth the price. I would give far more.”

“You are my heart. You are everything. Your touch is like ambrosia to me. All I need.”

She smiles, bittersweet with pain and joy. She understands completely.

***

The next day, Persephone wakes before me for the first time since we’ve been on the island. By the time I get up, there’s something cooking that smells wonderful. She’s dressed and sitting on the couch, reading a novel.

“Good morning, Kore.”

“Morning! Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Wow, you got ambitious today, huh?”

She shrugs, and holds out her hand to me. I take it and sit down with her. “I woke up full of energy today, and it’s kind of nice out. Want to go for a walk later?”

“Sure.” I’m pleased to see her looking more like her cheerful self, but at the same time, I wonder if this spells the end for our vacation. A return to her former levels of tension was probably inevitable. 

She kisses me sweetly, then pulls away when the oven timer beeps. I get up to make coffee and watch while she pulls out a loaf pan. “Cinnamon swirl bread,” she says, showing it to me. 

We eat out on the patio, chomping down slice after slice of the delicious warm bread. Persephone gazes out at the ocean, mostly. She seems thoughtful. Like she’s daydreaming, or contemplating something important. 

I do the cleanup, then we head out for our walk. We wander down the beach, the dogs scampering and barking around us. We take turns throwing sticks for them to retrieve.

Persephone takes my hand, hers so small and cold. She's still quiet.

“Are you all right, Sweetness?”

“I don’t know. I'm having such an odd feeling. Almost like... a premonition, I guess?”

“Of something bad coming?” This isn’t good. Persephone’s powers don’t normally include anything like prophecy.

“No… I don’t think so. Just something important.”

“You said at the time when we signed the Agreement that you thought we were missing something.”

“Oh yes. I think this is something different. Maybe it's not, though. It's all so vague, I don't even know what I'm saying.”

“Your instincts are nudging you. That's usually worth listening to.”

A sweet smile lights her face. “I don't know if I've mentioned lately how much I appreciate that you believe in me.”

“It's only fair. Besides, only an idiot wouldn't believe in you.”

She laughs, and lets it go. We've reached the end of the sandy beach--from here it continues as a jumbled, rocky shore. Persephone stops and gazes out to the other islands. I stand behind her and wrap her in my arms.

“I do still think there's something. Some loophole we can use,” she says.

I know what that means. She wants to go back,and throw herself into trying to find it. Persephone is someone who couldn't forgive herself if she didn't make every effort.

“Well, then I guess we'd better get home. You've got work to do, and I'll help.”

Persephone turns to me with wide eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. And then we can play teacher and naughty student if you want.”

She laughs. “Which one are you?”

“I think you know the answer to that. Unless you’d rather be the strict librarian.” I try for a scoundrel-y look, just to delight her.

“You put that thing away!” She points at me, wagging her finger in admonishment.

“What?” Have I really done something wrong?

“That smirk! You take that out and you point it at me and you think you can get your way every time! Just because it always works!”

I suppress a grin. “I’m not doing anything, I swear!”

She’s doing this on purpose, to cheer me up. I know it and maybe I should resent being managed, but I don’t. I can’t resist. She kisses me and I melt for her.

***

When we return, it’s ten days until her birthday. Persephone’s twenty-first birthday, when she will have to leave me. There’s a lot to do at work to prepare for one monarch’s absence for the next six months, but I take every opportunity to avoid it. I’d rather deal with a staggering workload once she’s gone than give up one minute I could be spending with her. I will need the distraction of extra work when I’m alone again.

I follow her lead, though. On days when she wants to go into the office, we do. On the days she wants to stay home and make love all day, we do that. Most days, though, we stay home and work in the library, chasing down any lead we can think up. I’m convinced that this will be fruitless, but I can think of worse ways to spend my time than home with my wife.

Most nights we go out. To restaurants, concerts, art shows, clubs. Half the time we end up leaving early, too eager for each other's company to tolerate being in public. Persephone is in full-energy mode, determined to work hard and play hard, too.

She does insist on spending a certain amount of time putting procedures in place for working remotely. She’s recruited a large cadre of nymphs to assist with her Spring work, and hired additional assistants for Kynora, who will be messengers going between the Underworld and the Mortal Realm. She also spends a day inspecting Elysium, giving detailed instructions about its maintenance. 

Multiple times a day, I field phone calls from friends and family members who are concerned for us. They all want to know what they can do to help, and have a hard time understanding that there’s nothing to be done. I do my best to shield Persephone from these. Her focus on finding this elusive solution is truly fearsome to behold. I’m certain she’s going to be disappointed but I’m not going to be the one to let her down.

***

It's only two days until Persephone must leave. I'd really rather spend our time talking and making out, eating or playing with the dogs--but she insists there’s a solution to be found, so I don’t say anything. The past few nights she's barely slept, spending all her time in the library, looking through the same books over and over. I help as much as I can, and stay near her even if I’m dealing with other tasks. 

Today she’s taking down stacks of books, looking through them for only a few minutes, and then getting more, leaving tottering piles all over the room. I don’t dare disrupt whatever system she has going.

“Can you tell me what line you’re pursuing?” I ask.

“It’s something I read years ago, I’m sure of it. I just can’t remember  _ where, _ ” she replies. She scans the shelves, shaking her head and gritting her teeth. “I  _ know _ there’s something!”

I’ve helped her before with brainstorming. “You seem to be focusing on law books. Do you think there’s something in the Agreement we can weasel out of?”

“No… if there were, Nemesis would have found it. I’m pretty sure it’s something more fundamental, and I’m just _missing_ it. I’m sure it’s one of those things where I’ll slap myself when I realize.”

I reach out and stroke her head. She’s wearing her hair in two little ponytails, which I find both adorably sexy and a bit confusing. “Don’t slap yourself, please.” I tug one ponytail gently and it grabs her attention enough that she gives me a sidelong smile.

“Give me another hour, Smush, and then you can pull my hair for real.”

“I wasn’t trying to distract you!”

“You weren’t?” She makes a sad face.

“Well, maybe I was.”

She pats my cheek and floats up to scan the upper shelves.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“I’ll make us something.”

I go out to the kitchen and allow myself three minutes of breakdown before I start cooking. I make Persephone’s favorite spicy stew, and garlic bread to go with it. I carry a couple of steaming plates back to the library, so she can eat with minimal fuss and get right back to work if she wants to.

Persephone is over by the bookcase, floating very slightly above the floor. She’s holding a heavy leather-bound volume of sacred law in her hands. She looks up at me, a wide, wicked grin spreading across her lovely face. “This is it. This is what we’ve been looking for. I know what we’re going to do!”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Red, as always. Thanks to scholarlydragon for ideas!
> 
> Follow @VerdiWithin on Twitter for updates & news.


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